


Shells, Firebugs, and Haunted Homes

by towardthesun



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Memories, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27042868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towardthesun/pseuds/towardthesun
Summary: The others forgot it was his family's house.They forgot that it wasn't always an abandoned dusty mansion on the sea. That once it had been a house filled with laughter, where his parent's had learned in their own ways to love one another, and where he and Azula had their few precious good moments.They could forget all of that, but for him it was a house filled with ghosts.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 220





	Shells, Firebugs, and Haunted Homes

**Author's Note:**

> I just want more good moments of baby Zuzu and Zula

The others often forgot that the house belonged to Ozai. It was strange, but they did, somehow letting go of the fact that they were hiding out in the very house of the man who wanted to murder them. Often they would find something, a trinket or relic that Zuko had missed in his initial purge of the stupid house, and bring it to him to examine. Today after dinner had been one of those times. Aang had brought him one of his mother’s gleaming hairpins, a gold jewel encrusted stick of mahogany that she saved for when they attended the theatre in their special box. He had begrudgingly explained what it was, and then the conversation had begun again.

“It’s weird to think that the Firelord takes vacations,” Suki pointed out, handing her bowl to Katara, “Did you come here often?”

“Who cares?” Toph interrupted, and Zuko was grateful for her. He found she often did that when a subject made his heart race. He didn’t know how she possibly knew that, but it was extremely welcome. The blind girl stood up and grabbed Suki’s shoulder, a silent demand that she come and spar with her in the waning light of the day.

“I mean, it is a little weird now that I think about it,” Sokka chimed in, “Did your dad hold his war meetings in the kitchens or something?”

It was a joke, a sad attempt, but a joke nonetheless. Still, Zuko couldn’t help but bristle, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“We didn’t come here after my dad became Firelord. Only before.”

The others began to back off, sensing the touchy subject approaching, but Aang had no qualms. 

“Not at all? I thought you said your mother loved it here?” He asked, and the fire blade with Zuko’s sudden shift in emotions. It was all just too much then- the house, the endless objects that reminded him of his past, and even the friends he had begun to love so dearly. 

“I need some air,” Zuko gritted out, ignoring Sokka’s immediate reminder that they were in a courtyard, and there was plenty of air around them. Toph overlooked his mood swing, continuing to spar with Suki, knowing that their firebender would eventually tear himself out of his funk, and they would get back to their version of normal. Aang looked like he was about to intervene when Katara put a hand on his shoulder, subtly pulling him away from Zuko. The two of them made eye contact, soft blue meeting harsh gold, and Katara gave him one of her gentle half-smiles.

Her forgiveness usually felt good, a warm cup of Uncle’s tea on a cold winter night, but right now, it only made Zuko even more aware of his jagged edges. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, he was a part of the problem, a part of the ruinous family that had caused every terrible thing. He was eternally grateful for her mercy, but sometimes he wished she still hated him. Hatred was easy for him to understand something he had earned. Kindness was as unfamiliar to him as trying to bend another element. Zuko turned his back to her warmth, letting the icy cold glow of the moon embrace him as he walked back into the spirits’ forsaken house. 

It was dark, but Zuko knew where he was going—years of muscle memory taught him where to go to get to his parent’s bedroom. He didn’t want to go in there, didn’t crave the pain that would inevitably come from being in that room. But he couldn’t stop, something pushing him forward. 

It was just a room, a dusty forgotten place with white sheets draping over the furniture to attempt to protect it from the elements. It felt stale, and Zuko kept glancing over his shoulder, waiting to be caught by someone who wasn’t here anymore. When they had come to the house, this room was expressly forbidden to him and Azula, a sanctuary from children for his parents to escape to when needed. He walked around his parent’s bed, resisting the urge to set it on fire, and leaned out the window, sighing shortly and letting his head hang under the weight of his family’s dysfunction. 

_Ember Island is a Magical Place_

It had been true then, hadn’t it? All those years ago, when his mother still took his father’s hand, and when his father had allowed Zuko to sit in his lap and read his war reports. Back before his cousin had died, and his uncle had grieved, and his father had finally seen an opening for greatness. Back when this house had been a refuge and not a tomb. He let his fingers trail in the dust on the windowpane, making endless circling patterns and weaves. 

The cresting waves were a stark white against the inky depths of the ocean, and the waves curled around his ears in a comforting melody. It was a different song than the one they sang in his three years of banishment, a gentle tune of small ebbs and flows on the bleached white sand. The breeze rippled his hair, and the strong scent of salt cleared his lungs. Zuko took a full deep breath, looking out at the almost night sea line. The firebugs were out in the full force of the hot August night, their own small flames lighting and then going out with fierce intensity. As he gazed at their twinkling glow, a memory hit him in full force, a moment he had forced himself to forget long ago. 

The last time they had come here was when Zuko was seven, and Azula had just turned 5. He had begun to finally progress in his firebending lessons, and as a present for both of the children, Ozai had surprised them and his wife with a week-long vacation to their home on the island. They had been dragged to plays, gone to fancy dinners, played in the sand on their private beach, and on the final night of their stay, Zuko and Azula had snuck out. 

Well, Azula had snuck out; Zuko had been pressured into it. 

If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the pitter-patter of her bare feet on his bedroom floor and could feel her insistent pushing against his shoulder. This was during the time where Zuzu was not a cruel nickname, but just a name for her big brother, and she had begged him to go to the beach with her. She wanted to put the firebugs in a jar so that when they went home the next day, she would bring them too, and they could stay and light up her room forever and ever. Zuko was too tired to try and explain to his little sister that firebugs died if you did that, and he had simply rolled over and hoped that ignoring her would be enough to stop this sudden quest of hers. Her voice, tiny and sweet then, rang in his ears. 

_C’mon Zuzu, please? Pretty please? If we have to go home, I want to keep the island with us._

He didn’t know what had swayed him. Maybe it was because Azula had said please, something she seldom did. Maybe it was because he knew she would not stop bothering him no matter what. Maybe it was just because he felt a bright, happy glow when he had finally dragged himself out of bed, and his little sister had squealed and thrown herself into his arms. 

Sneaking out had been ridiculously easy. After so many years, the prince knew the right places to put his feet, so the floorboards didn’t creak. Azula had followed his every footstep, careful and sure that he knew the right way. Before long, they were at the backdoor, slipping out, holding their shoes in their hands. Zuko had still had to help her to put them on then, something about the lacing too tricky for her tiny fingers. In her hands, she held a glass jar, probably swiped from their kitchens when the servants weren’t looking. They had tried to be quiet on the way down to the beach, but a game of tag was a game of tag, and soon the night sky was alight with her shrieks of joy and his chasing laughter. 

Once at the beach, Azula had become bossy as she usually did, ordering her brother to find the ‘best’ firebugs and trap them in her jar for her. Zuko had relented, pretending to choose them carefully when, in reality, he was just getting whichever ones happened to land in his palm. Before long, the jar was full of twinkling lights. The two had chattered about

_Isn’t it a little late for this?_

Both of them had been shocked to see not only their Mother there but Father too. Both adults were looking at them with a mixture of put upon tiredness and strange fondness. Zuko felt this heart jump when his father gave him a good-natured shake of his head instead of a displeased scowl. Azula, naturally, knew exactly what she wanted to say. 

_Father said I could bring something home with me from this trip. I wanted to make sure I got the best thing._

Mother chuckled at her daughter’s words, examining the jar. Ozai held his palm out, and Ursa had given it to him, a warning Zuko hadn’t understood then in her eyes. Ozai seemed uncharacteristically pleased with Azula’s decision, putting the jar down and picking her up in his arms. Part of Zuko was immediately jealous, but then his mother’s arm had been around him, and none of it seemed to matter so much.

The family had gone down the beach together under the light of the full moon, picking out more firebugs for her jar. Ursa had found a shimmering black opal shell and given it to her son to hold. A memory for you too, she had whispered, both of them watching it gleam in the silver of the night. Azula had been almost asleep by the time they went back to the house, her arms dangling over Father’s back. Zuko had held her jar the entire trip home, and now he gave it to her, the glow illuminating her drooping eyes. 

_Don’t forget to let them out before you go to bed, Azula. They’ll die if you don’t._  
Silly Mother, no, they won’t. They’re going to come home with us.

Of course, none of it lasted; it never had. The next morning all of the firebugs in her jar were lying at the bottom dead, not having enough oxygen to keep their fires lit with the lid on so tight. Azula hadn’t cried, but she had been disgusted with their ‘weakness.’ Ursa had shaken her head, and Azula had an outburst at her mother’s quiet disappointment. Their father had put a stop to it quickly, but Zuko knew that she was still upset. On the boat ride home, he secretly pressed the shell his mother had given him into his little sister’s palm. She had looked at him, looked at their mother who wouldn’t meet her gaze, and pressed the shell to her chest when she thought he had looked away. 

Did she still have that shell? Was it sitting on a desk or mantle, forgotten and dusty? Or had she destroyed it like Azula destroyed everything else around her that held any bit of beauty? Did she remember Zuko putting it under her pillow, and did the memory haunt her as it haunted him? 

In some ways, the war had been much harder on the others, and he knew that what he had faced was only a fraction of the suffering the world had gone through. Still...Still, in these quiet moments, in a house full of ghosts, Zuko couldn’t help but feel like he had gotten the worst treatment in the war so far. 

Childish laughter brought him out of his thoughts, pulling him away from the windowsill and the siren song of days long over. Zuko followed the same path he had taken to get to his parent’s bedroom, shutting the door tightly with a click that sounded extremely final. 

Zuko found himself back in the courtyard, watching the rest of the group from the shadows. Toph and Suki had quit their quest to beat each other into oblivion and were now sitting by Sokka, listening to Katara as she told a story by the campfire. It was not very good if their groans and moans were any indication. Aang was off on his own, pouncing into the brush of the courtyard and giggling at the plumes of firebugs that took to the sky to escape him. He used his airbending to manipulate the winds around the tiny creatures, pulling them close enough that he could try to catch them.

His mother was gone, his father and sister were insane, and his uncle might hate him, but Zuko was suddenly struck by the realization that he was not nearly as alone as he felt. It was impossible to feel lonely when he could see their roaring fire that he had built, and he could taste the last bites of dinner Katara had made, and Aang’s impossibly still young laughter was surrounding them all in hope. 

“You done pouting, Sparky?” Toph shouted, knowing he was lurking when the others might not notice. The others turned their head towards where he was standing. Aang gave him a full beaming smile, Momo hanging off of his shoulder, trying to catch another firebug to stuff in his mouth. Zuko’s own small smile grew, and he walked into the light. For the first time since they had gotten to the island, Zuko began to think he could start calling the place home again. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like please leave a comment or kudos! I just might start writing more because I just love Zuko so much my fire son <3


End file.
